Catastrophe
by csishewolf
Summary: My submission to the Geekfiction CSI FicAThon. It's just another night of fun for our favorite CSIs. GSR


**GEEKFICTION FIC-A-THON SUBMISSION**

_**For:** **annstokes** I do hope you like it!_

**Disclaimer:** CSI is not mine.

**Beta Props:** Thank You Cybrokat and Jennie!

**Requests: **Humor, a large ginger (orange tabby) cat, Shirtless!Nick and Hodges (I'm adding the GSR)_

* * *

_

"Omigod Grissom, it's huge," Sara whispered quietly. 

"Sara," Grissom replied in a soft murmur, "you're over-exaggerating. It isn't that big."

"Who are you kidding? It's huge! There's no way that's going in here."

"It'll fit… I promise. That's what it's designed for, right?"

"I dunno," she replied hesitantly. She thought for a moment before backing away. "You're going to have to do it."

"Sara," he said with a soft smile, "just put your hand on it and you'll see."

"I am _not_ touching it. You can touch it all you want, but I'm keeping my hands right here."

Grissom reached out and took her hand in his own. "Relax," he whispered softly in her ear. He turned her hand over, palm side down, and gently guided her over to it. "Here. See? It doesn't bite."

"It… it's soft. And it's vibrating."

"It's purring, Sara. Cats do that, you know."

"Still, it's rather _large_, don't you think? I think we need a bigger carrier."

"He'll fit," Grissom said with assurance. "That carrier is bigger than you think."

The large feline in question lifted one eyelid, revealing an intelligent-looking amber eye. Sara backed away quickly. "Oh God, it's staring at me. It's going to bite me… I'm sure of it."

Grissom looked down at the old wingback chair where the cat was happily curled up against a velour pillow, orange cat hairs covering most of the pillow and half of the chair. Both of the cat's eyes were closed.

"Sara, he's harmless. And besides, he's evidence. We need to get him back to the lab." Grissom studied the cat's forepaw again, noting the dried gunk crusted between two of its claws. Grissom's interest must have alerted the cat, because at that moment, it lifted its head, opened both eyes, and began grooming the aforementioned dirty paw.

"Oh kitty, don't do that," Grissom said softly. "That's evidence."

By some miracle, the cat stopped its grooming and eyed Grissom intently.

"That's a good kitty," he told it. "We need to take you to our lab to clean you up, and we'll get you some decent food and some water. I'll bet you are pretty hungry."

The cat looked at Grissom, rose, and gave a huge stretch, baring its fangs in a huge yawn. It then sat down, the slight roll of fat shifting between its legs. It was waiting.

"Holy shit," Sara murmured, "That cat understood you."

"Most likely it understood 'good kitty', 'food', and 'hungry'," he told her, his attention mostly focused on the cat carrier and its future occupant. "I need you to get into the carrier, okay kitty?"

The cat shot Grissom an ugly look. Sara chuckled. "Guess he has selective hearing there, Doctor Dolittle."

Grissom ignored her. "Please kitty. Don't make me call animal control." Grissom placed the carrier onto the floor, and opened the metal front door.

The cat hopped from the chair onto the carpet, making a loud _thunk_ when it landed. It walked over to the carrier and gave it a soft sniff. It then looked at Grissom. "Yes kitty," Grissom said gently, "into the carrier." Sara was gaping at the two of them, not believing her eyes.

The cat looked at the carrier again, and then shot between the two of them like a bolt of marmalade lightning, disappearing through the doorway into the basement downstairs.

Sara had jumped at the cat's quick movement, and after it had turned the corner and disappeared, she burst out laughing, her sides hurting from it. "I guess he showed you, huh?"

Grissom frowned at her. "I'm calling animal control!" he shouted in the general direction of the basement. Sara swore she heard a soft hiss in reply.

ooooooooooooooooo

David Hodges was not an animal person. He had never been an animal person, and he would never be an animal person. So the huge tabby growling at him from behind the dull metal bars was sending not-so-small prickles of fear down his spine. The last feline he had the misfortune of encountering had scratched the hell out of his hand and half of his arm when he'd try to pet it. Said feline's owner had taken her 'precious snuggly-wuggum's' behavior as judgment of his character, and that had ended his blind date with his cousin's girlfriend's sister Emily before it even began.

But, Gil Grissom had asked him to handle this cat personally. "I wouldn't trust anyone but you with this task," he had said. Well, not exactly, but that's what he meant. Just recalling their conversation made Hodges beam with internal pride. He knew, _knew_, that someday Grissom would notice him as more than a lab tech. He'd see him for who he really was, and he'd realize they were two of a kind. Two peas in a pod. Why they weren't drinking buddies already was a mystery, but David was sure that eventually it would happen. It _would_ happen.

He stepped closer to the cat carrier, and the low _rrrowl_ emitting from it ceased. Hodges sighed in relief. Perhaps he could handle this after all. He did have on thick elbow-length gloves – messing with nasty chemicals required adequate protection, and messing with nasty animals required it as well. If the disgusting beast scratched or bit him, he wouldn't get hurt.

With great hesitation, he pressed the two safety levers and released the lock on the carrier. An ear-splitting yowl cut through the quiet as the clearly possessed animal barreled through the small door, jumped onto Hodges shoulder, and used all eight rear claws to launch itself from his shoulder to the table four feet behind him. Glassware clinked and metal banged as the cat plowed through yesterday's unfinished lab work before leaping to the floor and disappearing under the sink.

Sara's head poked through the doorway. "Is everything okay in here? I thought I heard a woman scream."

Hodges was holding his shoulder in pain. He was surely bleeding. He'd need a tetanus shot. Oh god, what if it had rabies. They stuck needles in your gut for hours with rabies treatments! "Uh…" he replied hesitantly.

"Hey," Sara said, noticing the huge gloves and looking somewhat concerned, "are you okay?" She stepped closer to him and her nearness was distracting.

"Uh… um… the cat," he mumbled, pointing at the slightly ajar door on the carrier.

"Oh shit, did you let it out?"

"Well, I had to, didn't I? How else was I going to run tests on it?"

"Run tests on it? What are you talking about? You're supposed to run trace analysis on the material found between the cat's claws." Sara strode over to the table where the carrier was sitting and picked up a small vial next to it; a small vial with a brown powdery substance resting in the bottom. "_This_ is what we need you work on. Not the cat. It took animal control forty minutes to get that thing into the carrier, and the rep from the shelter is supposed to be here any second to pick it up! What were you thinking?"

"Grissom specifically told me to take care of it."

"He meant to take care of it, as in 'give it some water, maybe some food, and especially to _make sure that it doesn't get out of its carrier_!'"

Hodges stared blankly at her. _Oops? _"I'll catch him, no problem. I'm great with animals. I just… uh… he surprised me." Hodges smiled at her brightly.

"That wasn't you screaming, was it?" Sara couldn't hold back the tinge of laughter in her voice.

"No!" he barked vehemently in denial. "It was… it was the cat."

"Oh… okay. Right. So where is it?"

"I think it went under there."

Sara walked hesitantly toward the far wall, peering cautiously at the pipes under the double sink. Two glowing eyes sparred with her own, and Sara would've sworn the thing looked bigger than ever. How it fit back in that small space behind the drain pipe was beyond her. "Oh yeah, it's under there." A strange odor began to fill her nose. "Oh _gross_, what is that?"

"What is what?" Hodges asked apprehensively. "Oh wait… that's ammonia… and that's sulfur… and… and…"

"_Eeeewwww!_ I'm out of here!"

A minute later Hodges found himself staring at the rotten animal that had left him a large puddle and an even larger pile of… _uck_… to clean up.

Two amber eyes studied him while he toiled over the mess. Hodges scowled when it began to purr. It sounded like a two-cycle engine that was too low on oil. And once it started, it didn't shut up. Fifteen minutes later, with his shoulder aflame, Hodges had finished cleaning and the damn beast was still going strong.

"… _purr… purr… purr… purrrrrack! hack! hack! hack! heh... heh... herrrrrack!_"

**... _splort ..._**

Lovely. A hairball.

"_purr… purr… purr..._"

ooooooooooooooo

Sara had stopped by Grissom's office to inform him that they had nothing from trace on the substance from that cat. Grissom had smiled fondly when she had told him about Hodges incompetence and the resulting … deposits the cat had made.

"This is partly your fault," she said sternly. "You shouldn't toy with him."

"Who? What's-His-Name? David?"

"Yes, I know you know his name. He really does idolize you and I'd swear you deliberately manipulate him for your own personal enjoyment. And now our trace is late."

"I don't manipulate him, Sara," he replied, trying very hard to keep a wry smirk from forming on his face. "He just misunderstood what I meant."

"Yeah, well, I can sympathize."

Grissom lowered his glasses and looked at her, a serious expression on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Let's say he isn't the only one who's been on the receiving end of your miscommunications."

"Sara…"

"Just be a little clearer with him in the future. Your little mind game has delayed our case."

Grissom looked away as she turned quickly and left his office. She wasn't wrong; he was deliberately vague with what's-his-name. But her words were missing the emotional undercurrent that he'd expected. It was almost like she'd given up; she didn't care. It was more about the case than about _them. _A slice of pain crossed his chest. Maybe he was finally too late.

oooooooooooooooo

Sara made her way slowly to the garage. Grissom really aggravated the crap out of her sometimes. His little 'think-fast' tricks on Idiot Hodges had delayed their case. Not like it was a high priority, the owner of the marmalade monster had died of natural causes – well, that was Doc Robbins preliminary ruling. Heart attack. There was still the matter of the burglary at the poor woman's home that needed resolution, but a common burglar wasn't the hot case of the evening. Not at all.

The fire drill for tonight was Nick and Warrick's double homicide. Two young women had been found out in the desert near their car. They hadn't been dead all that long, 12 hours tops, so the trace on them and the car was 'alive' as she liked to think of it. And the one woman was related to the owner of one of the casinos, so it didn't get much higher profile than that. Nick and Warrick had been pouring over the car for hours. Sara was planning on stopping by to check on their progress and see if they needed any help. It wasn't like her case was going anywhere.

When she opened the back door to the main bay, she stopped in surprise. Both Nick and Warrick had stripped down to their jeans, and they were both leaning against a jet black Lamborghini Diablo, their bodies lightly glistening with sweat. A fan in the far corner was slowly oscillating, gently stirring the air and permeating the scent of metal, oil and the tangy hint of the young men's sweat.

Sara reached for her cell and sent a text message to Catherine. '911GARAGENOW' She sent it, and then immediately sent another. 'HURRY'

Not even thirty seconds later, Catherine appeared behind Sara's right shoulder.

"Jesus, what is it? I was about to go and take a piss."

"Look," Sara said softly, pointing at the two men murmuring quietly about the case as they leaned against the car.

"Holy shit." Catherine's eyes took on a glazed look.

"I know. Have you ever seen anything so… wow?"

"My god," Catherine mumbled. "Thank you… thank you for sharing this with me."

"No problem," Sara replied kindly. "This is something special; something you don't see every day. It's… it's kind of like… it's just…"

"Yeah..." Catherine whispered, "it's just… damn."

Nick noticed the two drooling women first, and nudged Warrick softly.

"Look. Dude, they are checking us out."

Warrick looked towards the back door and his spine stiffened slightly. _Cath…_ Wow, she looked like she was going to devour him and then have Nick for dessert. Sara's face carried a carbon-copy of Catherine's.

"Hey," he called softly, and both Catherine and Sara started walking slowly towards them.

"Hi," Nick murmured; a twinge of hesitation in his voice. Sara was eyeing him like he was lunch. A _tasty_ lunch. He'd been spending a lot of time in the gym since… _that_… and most of the bites had healed by now. Sara's eyes seemed to indicate that she was pleased with his efforts. And Catherine didn't seem to mind either. _Oh God, Catherine is my supervisor! How wrong is this?_

"Hey," they replied softly in stereo, "how _you_ doin'?"

"Uh… we're fine, thanks." Nick shot a concerned look to Warrick. What was happening here? Warrick shrugged, and seemed quite pleased about the whole situation.

They both stepped towards the oncoming women simultaneously, and both were equally surprised when Sara and Catherine walked right past them and towards the Diablo.

"Hello beautiful," Sara murmured huskily, running two fingers along the front hood.

"Got any plans for tonight, babe?" Catherine purred, running her fingertips from the front quarter panel to the rear spoiler. "Wanna come home with mama?"

Warrick and Nick gaped at each other as the women continued to murmur and swoon over the sports car.

"Damn," Warrick spat softly. "Score two for the wheels, zip for us"

Nick could only blink in dumbfounded surprise.

oooooooooooooooo

Grissom walked quickly down the hallway. David Hodges had paged him with results from the material found on the cat. Grissom smiled to himself; he couldn't help but like the small animal. His next door neighbor had always left food out for the flea-bitten stray tomcat that had prowled the streets and garbage cans of his neighborhood. Of course, Grissom had befriended it. When he'd found it dead a year or so later, he'd autopsied it, proving it had been poisoned by that asshole Frankie who lived up the block. He'd reported his findings to the local police station, and Frankie had been shipped off to military school. Grissom's smile deepened at the memory.

He walked through the doorway and was presented with Hodges' backside sticking out from under the sink.

"David?" Grissom asked cautiously.

Hodges jerked abruptly, banging his head on the sink bottom and his shoulder on the trap under the sink. Grissom heard the muffled whiny 'ouch!' but tried to leave the poor guy some sense of dignity by not rolling on the floor in hysterics. He settled for a squelched smirk instead.

"Grissom!" Hodges blurted. "I have your results right here. Let me… let me get them for you."

Grissom watched Hodges scurry about like a squirrel on a caffeine bender, and it was then that he noticed the still open door of the cat carrier. Hodges yanked the printout from the dot matrix printer and handed them ceremoniously to him. Grissom focused his attention on the carrier, drawing Hodges eyes to it as well.

"Where is he?"

Hodges paled. "It… he… is still under the sink. I think he's stuck behind the pipe. He won't budge."

Grissom shot Hodges a dark look before turning and leaving the room. He walked quickly to the kitchen, retrieving what he needed from the cabinet beside the refrigerator. When he was back in trace, Grissom laid the plastic carrying case on the floor and opened the metal gate wide. He popped open the can of tuna fish and placed it in the back of the carrier. He then stepped back and gestured for Hodges to do likewise. They stood silently as the bitter fishy odor slowly permeated the room.

Two minutes after Grissom opened the can, the cat waddled its way out from behind the pipes under the sink. It plodded over to the carrier, sniffing and twitching its whiskers eagerly. Hodges squeaked and Grissom glared at him to be quiet. Within moments, their quarry had made his way back into the carrier, and Grissom could hear it loudly slurping away. He walked quickly to the carrier and lifted the puffy striped tail, quickly placing it inside before closing the door and locking it.

"Don't let him out again," Grissom stated firmly.

Hodges nodded, and then in an eager voice he said, "You know, Gil, a bunch of us are getting together next Wednesday for a guy's night. Hang out, drink beer, play cards. I saw on the schedule that you had off next Wednesday. Would you like to join us?"

Grissom paused in uncomfortable surprise. "Oh… well, I don't think I can make it."

"Oh really?" Hodges prodded. "You have plans?"

"Yes," Grissom replied falsely. "I do."

"Hot date, huh?"

"Errr…"

"Well hey, good for you. Find out if she has a cute sister; make you can hook me up. We'll double."

"Uh…"

"Hey, it isn't someone from the lab is it?"

Grissom paled, and started walking slowly backwards. He had to get out of here, _now._

"Oh man," Hodges continued unheeded, "is it Sara Sidle? Wow, if it is, it's about time, Gil. She's a real spitfire. You go tame that shrew, pal."

"Uh…" Grissom mumbled, "thank you for the results. Don't let the cat out again."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't let either cat out of the bag. Heh heh heh!" Hodges laughed at his own bad joke as Grissom discreetly bolted from the room. He frowned when he heard Hodges murmur into his cell phone a few moments later.

"Hey Bobby, you owe me a twenty. Gil Grissom's got a date with Sara Sidle next Wednesday."

ooooooooooooooo

Sara studied the trace printout from the passenger seat of Jim Brass's car. "Mortar, huh? Dyed to a terra cotta color. Any construction going on near our vic's home?"

"You bet," Brass replied. "Big subdivision going up about a half mile away. Gil said to bring you over after your break. He's scrounging up the workers as we speak."

"At 4 a.m.?"

"I got the approval from the masonry foreman. They work nights anyways. The heat of the day dries the mortar too quickly."

They pulled into the dusty parking lot. Grissom's Denali was parked near the contractors' small trailer. Figures could be seen moving inside.

Sara followed Jim inside, and the smell of stale air, dirt and thick sweat almost made her gag. This was not the pleasant manly scent of Warrick and Nicky that she'd had the delight of experiencing earlier. Both men were fine, no question there, but that car… that car was just… _wow_. Now this here, this was the harsh bitter stink of low wages and thankless toil.

Grissom was tirelessly examining the makeshift line of workers along the trailer wall. The dust-covered men looked cramped and pissed, although they perked up when Sara entered the room. She walked towards Grissom, examining each man as she passed.

"Find anything?" she murmured as she approached.

"Nothing probative," he replied, not looking up from his study of the man's size 10 boot.

Sara continued past him, and paused as she noticed one man's strange attire. He had on a long-sleeved flannel shirt, whereas the other workers all wore short sleeves. Considering that it was mid-August, flannel was not the material of the season.

"Griss," she called softly, and he was at her side in seconds, noticing the man's clothing.

"Sir, would you please remove your shirt?" he asked calmly.

The man leered at Sara. "I'll take it all off for you, babe" he said, baring a deeply stained smile, sans a few front teeth.

"That's a good way to frighten a woman," Sara sneered in reply. "I recommend Colgate; you should try it sometime."

This did not go over well, but Grissom stopped the man with a cold stare. "Remove your shirt, please," he stated with authority.

"I don't hafta."

"Yeah ya do," muttered a hefty man from behind the too-small desk in the corner. Bushy eyebrows partially covered the shifting beady eyes of the foreman.

With some hesitation and a lot of glaring, their man removed his shirt. Thin scratches covered his forearms and there were a few deeper gashes near his wrists.

"Doesn't like to be picked up, does he?" Grissom questioned.

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"The cat. I don't know why you'd need to pick him up; maybe you'd like to share that information with us."

The man shifted in defensive nervousness.

"C'mon pal," Brass spat. "Let's go for a little ride, huh?"

Sara and Grissom nodded confidently at each other. They'd found their burglar.

ooooooooooooooo

"So," Sara rambled on, updating Greg on the night's events, "it turns out that the creep most likely scared the poor woman to death. She was ancient already, but still, having a burglar appear in her living room must have pushed her over the edge. And for some reason, this creep felt that he'd check in the fireplace for hidden loot. In doing so, he moved the cat's favorite chair. Turns out our kitty friend didn't approve of the maneuver and launched himself onto the guy and scratched and bit the shit out of him. That's how the cat got the bits of mortar on its paw. The guy came straight from work to the woman's home, and he had some on his gloves. When the cat tried to lick it off, it got damp and stuck to its fur."

"Poor cat," Greg sympathized.

"Oh no, not you too. Grissom thinks that thing is just wonderful. I think it is a cross between Garfield and a possessed mountain lion. Have you seen it? It's _huge._"

"I heard that's not the only thing Grissom thinks is wonderful," Greg chided.

"Huh?"

"I heard that you have a date with Grissom next Wednesday!" He punched her lightly in the arm. "Damn! You go girl!"

Sara's face fell to the floor. "I… uh… don't have a date with Grissom, Greg."

"What? Jacqui told me that Hodges called Bobby and that Grissom told him _specifically_ that he couldn't make Hodges lame-ass poker night because he had a date with you." Greg paused a second. If Hodges had asked him to go, he'd have told him no as well. And he'd probably have made up some excuse…

"Oh Sara, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Greg, it's okay."

"No, it's not. Hey, look in the bright side. In a way, you saved him from an evening of hell with Hodges."

Sara stood slowly and packed up her things for the evening. "I'll see you tomorrow, Greg."

Greg was crushed. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It's nothing, nothing at all."

She left the locker room and instead of turning left towards the back door, she turned right towards Grissom's office. Her feet seemed to carry her there of their own free will, and they seemed to pick up the pace with each step.

She found herself striding through his doorway, ready to rip into his ass, when she stopped suddenly at the sight before her. There was Grissom, and that _thing_ was out of its crate and on his desk. Grissom was gently scratching it behind its notched left ear. He was talking softly to it, "_Whose handsome boy are you? Hmm? Who's a good kitty?_" The rumble coming from the beast was akin to a lawn mower.

"Omigod, you're keeping it. You're not keeping it here, are you?"

"Why not?" he replied in good spirits. "He could be our mascot."

"I hope you're kidding," Sara said apprehensively. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Nope. I signed the papers when the SPCA came to get him. He's mine now."

"That's great. I'm happy for you. Really, I am."

"Thank you," he said cheerfully, all smiles and soft eyes as he rubbed a finger across the monster's nose.

"Oh, and Grissom, if we're going out on a date on Wednesday, it helps if you ask me first."

Grissom froze. "So," he said softly, "you heard about that."

"Yes Griss, I heard about that."

"So what do you think?"

"Think about what? That you used me as a scapegoat? That now half the lab thinks we're dating when we aren't? That once this blows over, I'm going to look like a fool?"

"No, silly. What do you think about going on a date… with me, next Wednesday?"

It was Sara's turn to imitate an icicle. Apparently she was an icicle in August, as she was slowly melting into a warm puddle of surprised goo.

"You want to go on a date… with me… on Wednesday."

"Yup. If you have any suggestions for meals or desired entertainment, now would be a good time to let me know."

"Uh… um… da…" Sara's ability to communicate in the normal human manner had apparently melted away during her icicle interpretation.

"If not, I request the honor of your presence at my home on Wednesday at 7 p.m."

"Da…"

"I'll take that as a yes. Excellent, I'll see you then." Grissom had resumed his ministrations on the striped orange blob splattered across his paperwork. "Julius will see you then too."

The thought of dealing with that cat brought Sara out of la-la land. "Julius? After Julius Caesar I assume?"

"_Et tu, Brute_"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I hope you aren't planning to go on some quoting spree next Wednesday."

Grissom walked from behind his desk and suddenly he was right there, violating her personal space. "Talking isn't part of the planned entertainment for the evening, Sara."

Sara swallowed, loudly. "Omigod."

"Here. Let me show you what I have planned."

Grissom reached behind her and lowered his head slowly to hers. Sara lost herself in his soft, lingering kisses. She opened one eye slowly to see Julius looking up at her from his perch on the desk, and she could've sworn the damn thing winked at her.

"_purr… purr… purr…_"

THE END


End file.
